Creating an experimental album that goes against the market trends requires immense courage. To break away from the clutches of record companies and independently craft a dream-laden, unique album demands an even greater reservoir of bravery.
In the absence of any record company contracts safeguarding "Don Quixote", George, with his own pocket, risked a whopping $150,000, wholeheartedly investing in its production. George was just an individual, not even an independent record label. Once "Don Quixote" failed to secure a record company to purchase the contract and facilitate its release, George would face the peril of losing his entire investment.
But that was not all. Even if "Don Quixote" managed to secure a contract, the risks George shouldered did not end there.
As Matthew had just mentioned, the contract explicitly stipulated a budget of $150,000 for the album. This also meant that once Renly received the advance payment from the record company, they would only need to fulfill the contract by covering the production cost.
But what if the production costs exceeded the budget? According to the contract, Renly would not be obligated to cover the excess. In other words, George would have to foot the bill himself.
In reality, exceeding the budget was almost a certainty. While it was true that independent musicians could cut costs to some extent during album production, much like independent filmmaking, many expenses were unavoidable. Even for crafting the most ordinary pop album, costs ranged from two hundred to three hundred thousand dollars. Independent musicians had limited room for savings.
This also meant that George had mentally prepared himself for going deep into his own pockets.
This wasn't the end of it; the royalties portion of the contract followed the same pattern.
Once artists signed with a record company, apart from the advance payment, they could also earn royalties. Typically, newcomers received royalties ranging from ten to fifteen percent, mid-tier singers garnered sixteen to eighteen percent, and the top-tier artists could demand twenty percent.
Per the contract terms, Renly could claim fifteen percent of the album's royalties, which was practically the highest rate a newcomer could hope for. Renly couldn't help but think of what Andy had mentioned earlier: he had exerted minimal effort, and George had voluntarily granted them top-tier treatment. What did this imply?
It meant that when signing with the record company, as a producer, George would actively negotiate this percentage for Renly, even without Andy's involvement.
Additionally, beyond artists, producers also had the right to share in the royalty earnings. However, unlike the film industry, where the production company paid the producer's fees, in the music industry, the artist bore this cost. The producer's fees consisted of two parts: an advance payment and royalty dividends.
As per the current market conditions, hiring a producer typically cost between seventy to ninety thousand dollars. For top-tier producers like George, the fees were only higher, never lower. Producer royalties were relatively fixed; they amounted to twenty-five percent of the artist's royalty income. When converted, this equated to about three to five percent of the overall album royalty income.
From the terms of the contract, George had merely requested the standard royalty dividends based on market averages, without mentioning anything about an advance payment.
Let's not even talk about how one should appropriately calculate the fees for someone of George's reputation as a top-tier producer. Even if it fell within the market range of seventy to ninety thousand dollars, George hadn't brought it up at all. He was essentially working for free. Clearly, subtracting this expense would save almost a third of the "Don Quixote" album's budget.
But that wasn't all. The premise for royalty dividends was that the album could be released and sold. As for how much could be earned from the three to five percent royalties, it depended on the album's market sales performance. Unfortunately, "Don Quixote" was an album that paid no heed to its commercial potential...
"I merely wish to create a heartfelt album," George had said. Only now did the deeper meaning behind this statement become clear to Renly.
Even without a record company contract, even at the risk of going bankrupt, even with nothing left, George was determined to complete "Don Quixote". Stripped of commercial considerations, career achievements, and real-world compromises, everything was solely about art, about perseverance, about the pursuit of life's passions.
It was more than just another job; it was a rekindling of a dream. George, retired for three years, once again displayed an unstoppable and resolute determination that was enough to move anyone.
This "heartfelt endeavor" weighed heavier than a thousand pounds.
In two lifetimes as a person, Renly believed he had been dedicated, diligent, and steadfast enough on the path of chasing dreams. But in this vast world, there were always others, mountains beyond mountains. In George, Renly truly witnessed the madness of giving everything for the love of one's career. He couldn't help but be filled with reverence.
For Renly, music had always been a passion. It had been in the past, it was in the present, and it would remain so in the future. His passion came from acting, and that was something that would never change, much like George.
Acting was the dream worth pursuing for his entire life. His goal was to be like George, able to stand on the stage with dedication to his beloved performance thirty, forty, or even just one day before the end of his life.
Once, he thought this was an unrealistic ideal, something that only existed in the passionate pages of Japanese manga. Real life, he believed, had no space for dreamers. But now, Renly had met George, and he had truly seen the realization of dreams. When ideals met reality, this time, the outcome was beautiful.
When Renly initially agreed to produce an album, the reasons were quite simple. On one hand, it was a matter of personal interest, trying out new challenges and venturing into different aspects of life. On the other hand, it was the joy and excitement of meeting another companion on the road to dreams, driven by George's sincerity and dedication that brought this project to life.
But now, Renly began to reassess his own attitude.
This shouldn't be just a matter of interest, nor should it be merely a dream. For George, this was a grand celebration, a party where life was set ablaze, where the soul was set free.
Having experienced countless ups and downs, bearing witness to numerous hardships, George's life had entered its latter half. It was highly likely that this was the last time in his life for unrestrained revelry, for unleashing a lifetime of dedication and focus, for releasing his lifelong passion and madness, for blossoming in its entirety, like a Fourth of July fireworks display – a riot of colors, resounding music, dazzling and magnificent. In an instant, it would unleash all its splendor, grand and vast.
In the midst of this exuberant dance party, the privilege of being a part of it was beyond measure for Renly. It could even be said to be the most moving moment in his two lifetimes so far, surpassing even the performances of "Buried" and "Like Crazy", because Renly not only witnessed a craftsman dedicating his life to his dream but also became a part of it. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
No matter if this turned out to be Renly's only album, regardless of its prospects, and regardless of what the future held, all he needed to do now was to throw himself into it wholeheartedly. Without reservation, with complete dedication and selflessness, he would merge his artistic understanding, his soul's resonance, and his life's insights into this album. Alongside George and Herbert, he would create this work of art.
Just like every previous exploration of his acting skills, he would burn brightly, like a moth drawn to the flame.
In the distant future, when Renly looked back on his life, he would be grateful that he had produced "Don Quixote". More importantly, he had been involved in every detail of its creation. It would become a part of his life, belonging to his original intentions, his dreams, and himself.
George Sland, who would have thought that he would become the first life mentor for Renly in two lifetimes?
As his thoughts gradually settled, like the cooling lemonade in his hand amidst the midnight chill and quietude, Renly felt both a weightiness and a lightness within. He lifted his head, gazing at Matthew, shifting the topic, "So, what you mean is, can this contract be signed or not?"
Matthew could capture the light in Renly's brow, wise yet world-weary, not bright but with an unmistakable resolve.
The Renly in his memories seemed to have never changed. That resolute and upright figure always stood in the forefront, bravely facing storms and pursuing his life's path with audacity. This version of Renly made people aspire to follow his footsteps, to move forward, to explore the unknown hidden within the mist, to imagine the grand and thrilling adventures that awaited.
"Of course, it can be signed," Matthew replied with a smile. "However, I'm not well-versed in the specifics. I'm not sure if the numbers inside are reasonable, like the $150,000 production cost for the album, whether it's too much or too little. Also, your profit-sharing ratio with George, whether it aligns with the industry standards. You should confirm these details with Andy. If there are no issues, you can sign it whenever you want."
Renly tucked in his lower jaw and said, "Andy agreed to all these numbers back then." Thinking back to Andy's playful tone during the phone call and Matthew's teasing today, Renly couldn't help but chuckle. "Give me the contract."
He folded his legs and sat up straight, accepting the contract from Matthew and placing it on the coffee table. However, he realized he didn't have a pen at hand.
Matthew didn't find this situation surprising at all. He reached into his suit's inner pocket and pulled out a pen, handing it over to Renly. Renly glanced at it and chuckled, "Is this from your 11th birthday?"
"It is," Matthew replied. This pen had been a birthday gift from Renly on Matthew's 11th birthday. In the blink of an eye, it had accompanied him for ten years.
Opening the pen, Renly quickly signed his name on different pages of the contract. He wouldn't miss this party of chasing dreams and burning life for anything in the world.